It Was Only A Joke
by green-rave
Summary: Luke is bored one night and decides it will be fun to spike the professor's tea and see if he notices.  Rated M for like maybe some language, perhaps, and definitely explicit scenes.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a month since the two of them had been on a case. Luke decided to pour vodka into the professor's tea. He hadn't really pictured anything past the actual act of spiking the tea. He wasn't hoping that the professor would get drunk enough to do a dance, or sing some folk song, or tell Luke all about his childhood and start crying about his lost innocence. He wasn't hoping for anything like that. He simply wanted to know if the professor would notice.

He didn't. Luke told the professor that he had added a secret ingredient when the professor asked, but apparently Layton had never touched vodka—or possibly any alcohol whatsoever—and was unable to pin the distinct flavor as anything but an exotic herb that Luke stumbled upon while shopping in some district of town little known to the professor.

Pretty soon Layton had downed two whole pots of tea. After he downed the first one, he asked Luke to make some more. Luke didn't have a good reason for refusing—he couldn't very well tell the professor his tea was spiked—and so resolved to stealing a few cups of it for himself here and there, in order to lessen the professor's alcoholic intake. Even so, he estimated that Layton had drunk the equivalent of about seven shots, over the course of two hours.

Luke knew his own threshold for drinking. He felt about at the same level of drunkenness as he did when he had about three shots in one hour. Factoring in an hour's processing time per drink, Luke figured that the professor had had more or less two drinks more than Luke. He was plastered.

The prank was not one of Luke's proudest moments, but he was far past the point of regret. All Luke could do was try to drag the professor upstairs, get him to drink some water, and hopefully get him into bed unharmed. He managed to coax two glasses down the professor's throat before he stood up suddenly, and declared that he had to "take a piss". He marched down the hall, leaving Luke momentarily stunned. When the professor returned his pants were unzipped and his shirt was only partially tucked in.

Luke tried his best to get Layton safely out of his clothes and into bed, but in his drunkenness, his shirt gone and his pants only half-on, the professor stumbled. He tried to hold onto Luke to steady himself, but that only caused Luke to lose his balance as well. Luke fell backwards onto the bed, the professor right on top of him.

Luke had never noticed, but at that moment, with a bit of a flush in the professor's cheeks, he was quite attractive. Luke had just come to this realization when the professor leaned down and kissed him.

If Luke had been more on his guard he would have avoided the professor's advance, but what was the point? The professor always got what he wanted in the end, whether it was a particular kind of tea for the evening, or setting Luke's bedtime. And hadn't Luke just been thinking about how cute the professor was? And what harm would a little love-making do, really?

So he yielded, and the professor's tongue snaked its way into Luke's mouth. Luke moaned and thrusted up into the professor's hips. Layton's deft hands made short work of Luke's clothing, and pretty soon his knees were up to his chest and the professor had a finger prodding and poking around in Luke's ass. Then there were two fingers, making a scissoring motion to widen the entrance. When the professor added a third finger Luke clenched his teeth and shut his eyes in pain, and the professor paused.

"Does that hurt?" he asked. "Do you want me to stop?"

Luke looked up at the professor. His eyes were clear and sure. Luke had a feeling that Layton was far less drunk than he was letting on. But for some reason Luke really wanted this, so he ignored it.

"I'm fine, professor. Don't stop."

He didn't. Luke could hardly catch his breath, or really even move, since the professor was holding his shoulders down. All Luke could do was clutch the sheets and gasp in pleasure whenever the professor happened to prod some particularly sensitive spot inside him. Soon the professor knew just about where those spots were, and he started aiming for them. And then Luke couldn't control himself anymore. His breathing hitched and he started moaning out "oh, Professor" and crying "don't stop, never stop, please," and feeling utterly embarrassed for himself but not even caring, because if everything could feel this good he would never need anything again.

And then the professor bent down and sucked a kiss onto Luke's neck, and it was too much. His voice cracked and all of his muscles seized up as a new and wonderful feeling took over. Then it receded, and was replaced by a strange feeling of contentment.

He let the professor pull him gently into bed with him, and fell asleep with his cheek resting on the professor's warm chest.

**Author's Note:**

I don't know if anything will come of this. I've got a few more scribblings in my notebook, but this might be all that actually gets posted. Who knows. If I do add more, it'll be very sporadically. If you like it let me know and I'll try to expand it. Thanks guys!


	2. Chapter 2

Luke woke up early—earlier than he would have wanted. The sun seemed to have made it its only goal to make Luke want to die. No matter where he shifted, its rays poked through the blinds and speared him directly in the brain.

"Fucking fuck," he muttered, flipping over dramatically so his face was buried in the pillow. He tried to pull the comforter up over his head, but it was stuck on something. He cursed it in frustration and sat up to try to free it. Then he saw the professor, shirtless and sprawled out on the other half of Luke's bed, with the comforter tangled around his legs and under his body. Luke jumped out of bed, the memories of last night hitting him like a wrecking ball. He scrambled out of the room as quickly and quietly as he could, pausing only to struggle into a pair of oversized sweatpants, then shut the door and sunk down to the floor against it, wanting to be sick.

He wasn't so much bothered by what had happened last night. He'd liked that. Fuck, he'd loved it. What bothered him more where the _whys_ and the _hows_ of just what exactly happened. Luke had gotten the professor drunk—shit-faced, really—and then fucked him. Is that rape? Could Luke have raped the professor? Definitely not. Luke was seventeen years old, and the professor was—Luke didn't really want to think about that too hard. But they were both consenting adults, weren't they?

_He was drunk_, Luke kept thinking. _He was drunk and I fucked him. He was drunk, he was drunk, he was drunk!_ Luke groaned and buried his head in his hands. _He's going to murder me._

Luke kept looking for ways to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. After all, Layton was on top of him the entire time, calling all the shots, _holding him down_ for fuck's sake. How could Luke be to blame?

_Because he was drunk, you blithering idiot. You got him drunk! He couldn't have known what he was doing._

But something was bothering Luke. The look the professor had given him last night, when he cried out in pain. That wasn't the face of someone who's mind was fogged by drink. He might have been drunk, but in that one moment of clarity, Luke could have sworn he saw something else in the professor's eyes.

Luke pounded his fist into the side of his head. He couldn't think about this right now. He would just ignore it. If the professor wanted to talk about it, that was his business. But damned if he thought Luke was going to bring it up first.

Luke walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. He dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, then set about boiling water for his tea. He suddenly found himself wanting to smoke, badly. His tobacco was in his coat, which was slung over the banister in the hallway. While he was digging it out, he heard the professor moving around upstairs. He rolled himself a cigarette while walking back to the kitchen, then opened a window and stayed facing it, with his back to the doorway, as he smoked. He could hear the professor making his way down the stairs. Luke braced himself, not ready for whatever was coming.

_Just play it cool,_ he reminded himself. _Let him set the tone, then just play along. If he wants to talk about it, fine. If not, it never happened._

The professor's footsteps stopped, and Luke heard the doorframe creak as he leaned up against it. Luke kept his eyes forward, watching leaves falling off the trees outside, blowing his smoke through the window, ignoring the man in the doorway. He wouldn't turn around. He wouldn't. But he could feel the professor watching him, waiting for something. The silence was growing unbearable. Luke tried to think of something to say that didn't sound trite, but he couldn't. So he just sat there, staring out the window, puffing on his cigarette, which was now almost gone.

The teakettle began to whistle, startling Luke. He walked over to the stove, glad to have something to do. He shut off the heat then began rummaging around for teacups and an ashtray. He stubbed out his cigarette and turned back to the teakettle, to find Layton had claimed the duty of preparing the tea. There he was, groggy from sleep, shirtless, hair a mess, and altogether beautiful. Luke felt his heart throb. He wanted him. It was obvious he wanted him. After last night, though, Luke had no idea if the professor still wanted him.

Luke stood there, frozen, but the professor wasn't looking at him, so he turned away quickly, claiming the toast he had forgotten about and sitting down at the table, his back once again turned on the professor. He couldn't stall for very much longer. One of them was going to crack soon. Luke just wasn't ready to explain what had happened.

His mind rushed through possible excuses. _It was only a joke... I thought it would be funny... I was bored... It was only a joke... You should have known it wasn't tea... It was only a joke... It was only a joke..._

Layton set Luke's tea on the table in front of him. Luke waited for him to sit down, but he didn't. Luke felt the weight of the professor's hand on his shoulder. He just stood there, next to him. He was waiting for Luke. He wanted Luke to speak first. He took a steadying breath, the unconvincing words on his lips, ready to tumble over, _it was only a joke..._ He looked up at the professor, ready for whatever would come.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. Lamely, at that. A look of confusion crossed the professor's face.

"Sorry?" he said. "For what?"

"Last night," Luke said. "The tea..."

"The tea," Layton repeated, though his face remained in-comprehensive. "It was very good. I don't know why you're apologizing."

"No, you don't understand." Luke was getting frustrated.

"No, I'm afraid I don't, m'boy."

"It was _spiked,_ Professor! I poured vodka into your tea. I spiked you tea!"

There was silence for a moment. Then another. Layton knelt down beside Luke's chair, looking up into his face with concern. Luke could hardly meet his eyes.

"I know," Layton finally said.

It took Luke more than a few seconds to register what the professor was saying.

"Luke," he repeated, "I know the tea was spiked. I admit I didn't know it was vodka specifically, but I knew it was spiked. I'd been drunk before, Luke. I knew there was alcohol in the tea."

"Oh."

Layton reached up and touched Luke's face gently. "Why didn't you say something sooner? I thought I had hurt you."

"No," Luke cried. "No, Professor, I thought... I thought _I_ had hurt _you!_ I thought you would be angry with me. I didn't mean for you to get so drunk! It was... It was only a joke... It was supposed to be a joke."

Layton listened to Luke's babbling with patience, and when he was done, Layton took both of Luke's hands in his.

"Luke, my dear boy," he said, with the tone of someone trying hard to conceal their real feelings. "I could never be so mad at you as to not speak to you. I was only so quiet this morning because I didn't want to push you into speaking to me if you were scared. Luke, listen to me." There was a desperate calm behind this last that Luke had to meet the professor's eyes. "Luke," he continued. "I'll never stop speaking to you. Please understand. I'm sorry for any confusion. I didn't want to hurt you. Please Luke, please forgive me. I love you, Luke."

He couldn't take it anymore. Luke flung himself out of his chair and into the professor's arms with such force that he fell backwards and Luke ended up lying on top of him, staring down into his eyes. He felt his face breaking into a slow, stupid grin, but he couldn't help himself. He felt giddy. The professor wasn't mad. The professor was concerned. He _cared_ about Luke. He didn't want to hurt him. He...

"Say it again," Luke said, smiling like an idiot. "What you just said, Professor, say it again. Tell me you love me."

The professor took Luke's face in both his hands and looked straight into his eyes. "Luke, my dear, dear boy. I love you."

Yes! He loved him! The professor loved him! Luke whooped for joy then smashed his lips into the professor's, smothering him in a kiss. The professor made a gurgled sound of surprise before tangling his fingers into Luke's hair and holding him close. Luke pulled the professor's lip into his mouth and bit down, and the professor groaned and bucked into Luke's hips. Luck unlocked his mouth from the professor's and moved to his ear, then down his neck, biting hard and pulling at the tender skin all the way down. In a moment he had Layton gasping for air and he could feel a significant hardness against his leg. He sat up slowly, straddling the professor, watching him with lidded eyes. Slowly, he began grinding his hips in circles. The professor bucked again and moaned, grabbing Luke's thighs for support. Luke grinned and stopped, and the professor whined his protest.

"I haven't finished my tea," Luke said, then abruptly climbed back into his chair and sat down, sipping his tea mildly.

"Fuck you," Layton said, and Luke snorted into his tea, having never heard the professor utter such a profanity before.

Luke turned his heated gaze on the professor, who was clambering to his feet and dusting himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. "Don't mind if I do, Professor," Luke said, standing up and stalking Layton into the corner of the kitchen. Luke reached down and tickled Layton's thighs, making the professor whimper. He leaned in and began to bite the professor's neck while he let his hand snake down the professor's pants. He was teasing him. Luke wanted to hear the professor beg.

"Luke," he groaned. "Luke, oh, fuck."

"Yes?" Luke asked, his voice dripping with honey.

The professor moaned and bucked into Luke's hand as Luke stroked him gently.

"Yes, Professor?" Luke repeated. He stopped biting his neck and pulled his hand out of the professor's pants. "Do you want something?"

Layton thrust his hips forward but Luke was ready, dancing back just out of reach before putting his hands on the professor's hips to hold him in place.

"What do you want, Professor?" he asked again, teasing.

"Please, Luke," the professor moaned. "Please, I want to come, Luke. Fuck me, please."

And there it was. Luke spun the professor around so fast, pulling at the professor's waistband so that his pants slid down to the floor. He stuck his knee in between the professor's legs, spreading them apart, before freeing his own pulsing dick and pushing it up right against the entrance to the professor's ass.

"Is this what you want, Professor?"

Layton only whimpered in response.

"Professor," Luke said, leaning in to bite the professor's ear once more. "Is this what you want?"

Layton pushed back against Luke, grinding hard, desperately trying to find his release. "Luke, please," he cried. "Fuck me, Luke, please, yes, I want this. Please."

Luke chucked, amazed at the power he had over this man, before plunging himself into him. It was quick, as they were both already well past their breaking points, and soon they had both collapsed onto the floor in a sticky, panting mess.

Luke was on his back, absently stroking the professor's hair.

"No fair," the professor finally murmured. "I wanted to see your face. I didn't get a very clear look last night. I was very drunk, you see."

They both cracked into a fit of giggles, lying there naked on the floor, their tea going cold forgotten at the table.

Finally, when Luke could draw breath again, he spoke. "You'll have plenty of other opportunities to watch my face, Professor. Plenty more. I promise."

Layton rolled over so he was on top of Luke, then bent his head and kissed the boy. "Thank you, Luke," he said.

"Thank vodka," Luke replied, and they kissed again, strong and clear and hard and very, very sober.

_I suppose that's all it took, then, _Luke thought absently to himself. _Easy as pie. Still, I don't think I'll be drinking vodka again for a long while._

**A.N.**

Fucking FINALLY sat down to write this, a whole goddamned year later. I seems kinda wordy to me, but at least it's a resolution. So, uh, here you go! Feel free to yell at me if it's awful. Love!


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